


Beauty Sleep

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-18
Updated: 2004-10-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10335254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS: ChimeraWarnings: Cranky Colonels need to watch their languageSEASON:  7SUMMARY: Jack’s POV as the events unfold at Daniel’s house, and after





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 Missing Scene Fanfiction - Beauty Sleep

##  Beauty Sleep

##### Written by BadgerGater   
Comments? Write to us at Badgergater@cs.com

  * SPOILERS: Chimera 
  * Warnings: Cranky Colonels need to watch their language 
  * SEASON: 7 
  * SUMMARY: Jack’s POV as the events unfold at Daniel’s house, and after 
  * PG [M] 



* * *

Part 1 of 2

\-----------

Sometimes, things seem to happen in super-slow motion, each movement, each thought, distinct, crystal clear. Usually, that happens just as the shit is hitting the fan.

Or in this case, the head hitting the wall.

In the split second before my skull impacted with the much too hard plaster of Daniel’s hallway wall, my last thought was of Major Carter. I am so gonna kick her ass over her Pollyanna optimism. I hate the word ‘likely’. Really hate it: "She’ll likely have a shield," Carter said. The tranquilizer will *likely* work. I’ll *likely* live to tell about it.

Oiy.

I was standing far enough from the wall that the… beam, blow, force, whatever… threw me into the wall with way the hell too much momentum.

Good thing my head is hard.

Must be all the rock in there.

I hit so hard I saw stars, or at least those little blips of light in the pitch black inside my eyelids. I don’t really remember going down, but I hit hard enough to bruise both my shoulder and my backside.

Next thing I knew, Teal’c — I’m pretty sure it was the T-man, anyway--was bending over me. I’d been out of it, okay,okay, knocked out, for a minute or two. Damn lucky Osiris didn’t blow me away while I sprawled there on the floor, helpless.

I waved Teal’c on to go check on Daniel, reassured to hear our guinea pig tell the Jaffa to go on after the snake. Okay, he called her Sarah, as Daniel would.

I knew I needed to get up, much as I really didn’t want to. Down there on the floor, while it was hard, was nice. Comfortable, really.

But I still had the tranquilizer gun. And we still had a Gould to catch.

Ordering my body to respond, I rolled from my back to my side and up onto my knees, eyes still closed because I had a pretty good idea that I wasn’t going to like the consequences of opening them.

Which I had to do next.

Crap.

Very slowly, I opened one eye a bit, then the other.

Okay, that worked. Things were sort of swooping around, but only a little bit, and I was functional.

Mostly.

If I didn’t try anything too fast or too tricky.

Teal’c was back, lending me a hand to get from my knees upright and up onto my feet. One raised eyebrow asked if I was okay. My nod said yes, even if I wasn’t okay. Which I wasn’t.

Which didn’t matter, because I was needed.

I could worry about okay later.

Staggering but catching my balance, I got outside just in time to see that b… witch blow up the surveillance van.

Teal’c was gonna be peeved, because he still had a couple of donuts left in there.

Me, I just hoped my name wasn’t on the equipment requisition form.

Thankful for the convenient wall of the house to lean against, steadying my appallingly shaky aim, I picked the center one of the three Osiris/Sarahs standing on the sidewalk, and shot her.

There was a scary moment when she turned and looked at me, pulling out that dart, a ‘you’re-a-worm-and-I’m-your-God-about-to-step-on-you’ look on her face. 

I was about to plan Pollyanna Carter’s death ‘part two’ when the tranquilizer kicked in and Osiris crumpled to the ground.

I kept one eye on her while the other caught a glimpse of two figures, across the street by the burning van, both still down on the ground.

Crap.

"Carter?" Okay, yeah I was pissed but I didn’t *really* want Carter dead. Way the hell too much paperwork, "Subordinate-Death Report, in triplicate" is not a fun form to fill out any day of the week.

"It’s Pete," she called out. "He needs an ambulance."

Pete? Boyfriend-who-makes-her-hum-Pete? What the hell was he doing here in the middle of us staking out Daniel’s house and apprehending a snake? How much had he seen? Way the hell too much I was sure.

Double oiy.

"Subordinate’s boyfriend sees alien, in quadruplicate" form, second worst only to "Subordinate’s boyfriend killed by highly pissed Gould" form which was probably 40 pages long.

With Teal’c securing Osiris, I hurried back into the house. Daniel had made it as far as the living room, looking hung over. I couldn’t blame him. Those Gould memory devices are nasty, not just nail in the head painful, but big and honkin’ hatchet through the skull agonizing.

Which was about the way my own head was starting to feel, now that the adrenaline rush was over and I had time to think. And feel. 

My shoulder wasn’t so hunky-dory either.

Doc was gonna throw a fit. I’d promised her I’d take better care of myself, and I’d meant it, really I had. I just can’t help it, I always seem to end up in the middle of the action.

Daniel’s phone was on the kitchen counter. I had to squint hard to make out the wildly dancing numbers, but I managed to get the number dialed, and backup called in. They weren't far away, and fortunately for Pete, they included an SGC medical team.

By the time I made sure Daniel was okay and got back outside, the SFs already had the street secured and someone had turned a fire extinguisher on the van. A little late but at least we wouldn’t set the whole neighborhood on fire. Daniel’s neighbors probably wouldn’t appreciate that. Maybe it would just be easier to have Daniel move. He hadn’t been here long enough to get attached to the place anyway. Probably didn’t know any of his neighbors. But then again, I really ought to talk. Hardly know my own neighbors, after eight years.

We were still going to need a hell of a good cover story anyway.

Damn that woman…Gould…thing… wasn’t supposed to get out of the house.

That’s a snake for ya’, never cooperating with the plan.

So. Gould in custody. Fire out. Security in place. Medical assistance being rendered. Everything under control.

It would just be so much better if the ground and sky and trees and all would quit doing lazy spin maneuvers that had my stomach threatening to do matching flip-flops.

We had brought an ambulance to take Osiris away, figuring it would arouse the least suspicion. Instead, I modified the plan, sending Pete, about whom Carter wasn’t humming at the moment, off in the ambulance to the SGC, so he wouldn’t start asking any unanswerable questions in the uncontrolled setting of the local hospital’s ER. We loaded Osiris into the SUV the SF’s had arrived in. I thanked the local police for their assistance and discretion, and was ready to leave.

It was down now to just Daniel, Teal’c and me.

Problem.

Who was going to drive?

Daniel, who hadn’t had a real night’s sleep in how long, thanks to his nightly visits from our little Gouldy friend, sure as heck wasn’t fit.

I was seeing two of everything, when I wasn’t seeing three.

Which left Teal’c.

Not that he’s a bad driver, really.

Just a scary one.

Crap.

Teal’c it was.

I handed T-man the keys to the last remaining vehicle, one of those so-unobtrusive-its-obvious plain blue Air Force sedans. "You drive, T, I’ll ride shotgun."

He nodded, pleased.

Teal’c loves to drive.

As we climbed into the car, Daniel didn’t object to my choice of drivers, which said a lot about how he felt. Or how distracted he was.

I think he’s still in love with Osiris’s host, Ms. Gardner.

The Tok’ra should be able to free her.

Good thing for Daniel.

For his sake, I hoped it worked out. He deserved a break.

Just then, Teal’c pulled away from the curb. I shut my eyes to block out the dizzying array of movements, both the real ones caused by the speeding car and the un-real ones caused by my bruised gray matter. I slumped in the seat and secretly hoped that Teal’c hurried, because I was feeling more and more unwell by the moment. Even keeping the eyes closed was no longer effectively keeping my stomach from rebelling. If we didn’t get to the SGC pretty damn soon, I was going to throw up all over the inside of this lovely government car.

And I was sure there would be another form to fill out… "Expelling Stomach contents into Government Owned Vehicle." There was sure to be an addendum that billed the officer responsible.

I think I groaned out loud.

"Jack, are you okay?" Daniel asked from the backseat.

"You appear to be turning a shade of green I have not seen in a human before, O’Neill," Teal’c added.

"You watch the road," I told him. "And no, I’m not fine," I admitted to Daniel in that split second when my tongue activated before my brain could order it to halt.

"Jack?" he sounded more concerned now.

"Just a little thunk on the head. Concussion thing probably."

"Oh, okay, as long as it’s just your head that’s hurt," he said, sounding relieved.

Just my head? Oiy. I’ve been using the ‘dumb as a box of rocks’ thing far too much lately, I thought.

At long last we arrived at the gates to Cheyenne Mountain, passed through security and headed for the elevators.

I was having to work really hard at walking and not staggering, not to mention the task of keeping my stomach’s contents in my stomach.

The elevator damn near got me.

It started down with a lurch that sent bile rippling up into my throat, but I swallowed it back and leaned against the wall, feeling suddenly shaky and appallingly weak in the knees.

A hand touched my shoulder. "We are almost there, O’Neill," Teal’c reported.

I wanted to say something, but I was afraid I’d lose the fight with my stomach if I opened my mouth. So I nodded and hoped he understood.

Finally, the elevator stopped. With Teal’c on one side and Daniel on the other, I mustered my last remaining energy and, only leaning on them slightly, stumbled into the infirmary, collapsing onto a bed with a sigh of relief that might have sounded like a moan.

But it wasn’t. Not really.

I curled up on my side, drawing up my knees, my eyes firmly closed. Being still helped. 

Momentarily.

"Colonel?" Doc’s familiar voice was welcome. "What’s wrong?"

Before I could fumble through my scrambled brain cells to answer, Teal’c beat me to it. "He was struck by Osiris’ energy beam and thrown against the wall, striking his head."

From the sound of Doc’s voice, she was standing right in front of me now. "Sir, how many fingers?"

"Three," I guessed.

"Colonel, you have to open your eyes to guess."

I opened my eyes, caught one glimpse of Doc’s face doing amazing loop de loops and failed to stifle the groan as I slammed the eyes closed once again.

"Colonel, please. I need you to keep your eyes open."

Calling up all the famous-throughout-the-galaxy O’Neill stubbornness I could muster, I opened my eyes, fixing them on the hand Doc was holding up.

"How many fingers?" she asked again.

"Two," I guessed.

"Wrong, Sir, there were three."

I waved a hand in front of me. "Ah, well, that’s inflation for you." I answered, trying to divert her because I knew what was coming next, that nasty penlight thing that I’d threatened to stomp on more than once but regretfully, had never actually done.

"Colonel, I need you to hold still one more minute here, okay?" she was using her patient voice, not that kind of patient, but the same one I’d heard her use on Cassie. Yup, sure enough, she flashed that bleepin’ light right in my eyes.

"Hey," I snapped. I flinched, okay, more than flinched, more like jerked back.

"Okay, then, Sir," she patted my shoulder. "We’re all done with that."

"Good," I moaned, er, muttered, having once again clamped the eyelids closed, determined they would stay that way.

Her hands were on the sides of my face, working upwards into my scalp, feeling the bones. Her fingers reached the back of my head and I jerked once more. " Ow."

"You’ve got a bit of swelling here, Colonel, but no break in the skin."

Good. At least that was some good news.

"Any soreness in your neck or back?"

Dumb question. The back is always sore these days, courtesy of too many years doing things like jumping out of airplanes, hiking endless miles and getting the crap knocked out of me by everyone from the Iraqis to the snakeheads. "No more than usual," I answered honestly, flinching when her hands ran down along the back of my neck. To this day, I can’t stand to be touched there without my skin crawling, thanks to Hathor’s snakelet.

"Sir, were you unconscious?"

"Only a few seconds maybe."

"You were unresponsive for several minutes, O’Neill."

Damn that Teal’c, too honest for his own good. Or mine.

"Colonel?" I didn’t need to see Doc’s questioning glare, I could hear it in her voice.

"Yeah, a couple of minutes. Not more, though," I insisted.

"Headache?"

"Yup."

"Dizziness?"

"Oh yeah."

"Nausea?"

"You got the hat trick, Doc. Are we done now? Not that I don’t enjoy your company…"

I could hear the smile in her voice. "Sorry, Sir, but we need x-rays and a scan to be sure there’s no serious damage."

I’d been through the seriously damaged skull thing, and though it had been a hell of a long time ago now, I hadn’t forgotten what that felt like. "Nothing’s broken, Doc."

"Let me be the judge of that, Colonel. I need to be sure." I heard the tiny scritch-scritch noise of her writing something on a chart.

I heard someone walk in, and chanced a quick opening of the eyes. It was a nurse, carrying one of those ever attractive hospital gowns, which she set on the bed.

"Change into that, Colonel, and we’ll get the tests done," Doc ordered.

"Pass my tests and I can go home, right?" I suggested hopefully.

"Wrong, Sir. You know the drill. You’ll have to stay tonight."

"How about an aspirin then?" I asked hopefully.

"Once the tests are done we’ll get you something for the headache."

Fraiser 

patted my arm again. "Get changed, Colonel, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. And oh, you’ll need to fill this, too, Sir," she handed me a little cup.

"Geesh, Doc, I hit my head not my…" I sort of let the sentence fade away. I know Doc has seen the intimate parts of me, but it’s not something I joke about. Ever. I do have my manly pride.

"I just need to make sure there was no kidney damage, Colonel."

She left. My little cubicle got quiet.

Sighing, I stood up, catching my balance with a hand on the bed. The bathroom was thankfully only a couple of steps away across the hall, and I could brace one hand on the wall all the way. I managed to get there and get my trousers undone, provide the required material and zip myself back up. I eased my way back into the exam room and sat down for a minute, taking a break, wishing my head would stop throbbing.

Changing clothes with your eyes closed is a bit of a trick, let me tell you, but I managed it, sinking gratefully back onto the bed when I was done.

That’s when I finally lost it. I’d thought I could manage it all right, but all that moving around finally got the best of me. The urge to retch this time was overwhelming. I opened my eyes long enough to spot one of those odd-shaped dish things on the bedside table and grabbed it just in time.

Not that there was much to come up out of my stomach. Good thing I hadn’t eaten one of Teal’c’s donuts.

The thought of sweet, sugary rich pastries made me retch again.

Damn, I hate a concussion.

There was a Kleenex box on the nightstand and I snatched up a couple, wiping my face, hoping it didn’t look as pale as I felt. A vain hope, I was sure, because even my hands were shaking.

Oiy.

I loathe being sick.

I tossed the little dish thing in the trash and sank back onto the bed, closing my eyes gratefully.

"Colonel O’Neill?" It was a familiar feminine voice. I twitched one eyelid far enough to recognize the nurse, Captain Carroll.

Of course. Doc knows enough to send someone who can cope with me at my worst. Which even I knew I was going to be today.

Lee was pushing a wheelchair in front of her.

Not that I was going to admit it, but I didn’t think I could walk across the room, much less all the way to the torture chamber, er, the room with the scanner thingy.

I managed to slither into the chair and didn’t complain about it, and Lee had the good grace to say nothing. I kept my eyes closed as we started down the hall, my head resting on my hand.

\-----------------

"Sir?"

Another female voice I recognized. I sat up straighter and opened one eye. " Hey Carter. You okay?" I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to her, not since she’d left in the ambulance with Pete.

"Yes, Sir. I didn’t realize you were injured, Colonel."

"It’s nothing. Just a bump on the head. How’s Pete?" I hoped she didn’t notice the way I had to keep one eye closed to prevent the walls and ceiling from swapping places.

"He’s in surgery right now, with Dr. Warner, but Janet was confident he’d be okay."

"Then I’m sure he will be. What *was* he doing there?"

"Ah, I guess he followed me."

"Followed you?"

Her voice sounded hesitant. "I think he was wondering what I really do."

"Didn’t buy the deep space radar telemetry thing then?"

"No, Sir."

I sighed. "Ah, well, they never do, do they?"

"How about you, Sir?"

"I’m fine. I’m always fine, Carter. Finer sometimes than others, but always fine."

"Yes, Sir."

I let my eyes close once more, and didn’t need to reopen them to know where I was. That says a lot about how much time, way too much time, I spend in the infirmary. I let Lee shepherd me from test to test and back to a room at the end of the hall, where I gratefully fell onto the bed, letting my body go limp.

"Colonel?" the nurse’s voice sounded worried.

"Just tired."

"Yes, Sir. I’ll let Dr. Fraiser know all your tests are done." 

"Do that." 

I felt her drape a blanket over me, and then a comforting little pat on the arm, and I couldn’t even muster the energy to say thanks.

I think maybe I did sleep then, at least a little. Hell, I’d been up all night, on our little sneaky snake surveillance gig so of course I was tired.

I don’t need to mention the headache, do I? Just envision a 9.9 on the Richter scale, and you’d have it.

\--------------------

"Colonel? Colonel O’Neill."

"Umhhh," someone was shaking me. Hadn’t I just gone to sleep? Couldn’t everyone see that I had a headache and I needed some rest? Didn’t anyone around here respect the fact that, while it didn’t say Colonel on this damn hospital gown thingy, that I really was a Colonel? Entitled to all the rights and privileges thereof? Like sleep?

Obviously not, I thought with a sigh, as the shoulder-shaking continued.

"What?" I growled.

"Sir, I need you to wake up for me."

I cracked my eyes open and glared at the three nurses who stood over me. "Oh, right, sorry, I mistakenly thought I was assigned this bed so I could *sleep*."

Only one of them answered. "Sorry, Colonel, but you know the drill. I need to assess your condition every three hours."

"My condition is aggravated. Ornery. Annoyed. Kapeesh?"

"Yes, Colonel. I’ll mark you down as normal, then, Sir."

These nurses are getting way too good at talking back to me, I thought with a sigh. "Now let me sleep. And don’t wake me up until I’ve had my beauty sleep. Which may take years."

"I can let you rest for three hours, Sir. Doctor’s orders."

I waved a hand in her direction. "Yeah, right, I know. Concussions," I mumbled as she left. "A real pain in the head."

**The End**

  


* * *

  


> Author's Note: More of what was left out of S7. With special thanks and a howdy to Margo, who helped me survive S7…

* * *

> © September 2004 Don't own ‘em. Love 'em though.

* * *

  



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